And There He Was
by Horus.Potter
Summary: Based on the headcanon from Heaveandhellcastiel on tumblr: "Dean has been reincarnated in every lifetime and Castiel found him each time until Naomi made him forget." Contains season 8 spoilers.


AN: So, I was on Tumblr and saw this post: onamelancholyhill . Tumblr post / 49406266184 / bakasara – heavenandhellcastiel – headcanon

And, well, challenge accepted. But I'd like to know if anyone else wrote some too, so if you know any please leave a comment or message me because I'd love to read some myself!

Credits to heavenandhellcastiel on Tumblr for writing the headcanon in the first places! Anyway, enjoy.

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**And There He Was: **

It happens like a dream, Angel's don't sleep, not in the conventional sense of the word, but now and then memories slip by the stream of consciousness and it feels ethereal. The memories blend in a way that can only make sense to a dreamer. Castiel used to remember everything; the fall of Babylon, the construction of the pyramids, a fish flopping up onto the shore, small events too that have been lost to history as insignificant. Castiel remembered it all. Until recently. He stopped remembering, stopped dreaming. It hasn't been safe to allow himself that much resting time.

But laying all but passed out after a rigorous torture session Castiel can feel his mind wandering. His eyes are closed and his breathing has steadied but his mind is weary. He sees an image; it takes form like a silhouette from the shadows. He knows the time is the early thirteen hundreds, this knowledge comes to him in the way dreamers know details of their imaginings; with absolute assurance. He sees 14th century Europe spilling out before him, fields and trees; it feels clean here despite the diseases and plagues lurking in the atmosphere. Castiel can see the small structure in front of him, he knows its a primitive house, made of straw and clay and not at all sturdy enough to be deemed safe. He also realizes with a small jolt to his heart, that he's been here before. This memory feels new though, like a real dream. Castiel thinks briefly that perhaps he is dreaming this time; but no, he can _feel _that this was real.

A figure is outside the hut, skinning a slain boar, this figure has brown hair and his green eyes shimmer against the sunlight. Castiel watches the man, knowing his name, knowing his history, but he can't name it. For some reason Castiel cannot grasp what this scene means; but he can _feel _it. He knows this is important but he can't remember _why._

The dream changes, the colors swirl like a painters brush on a scrapped canvas. Castiel feels disoriented for a moment until he realizes that his disorientation is not his own; he is on a ship. The ship is rocking back and forth furiously, the storm is shaking the sky, rattling the ocean. Castiel looks around and sees a crew of men, trying their best to keep the vessel afloat. And even in the darkness of the angry storm, green eyes call to him. He hears a voice, but it's muffled from the thunder and rain, he sees another figure nodding in response and a team pulls the heavy sails, forcing the boat to lean in ways that should capsize it, but it fights the ocean and stays upright.

Heavy blackness covers the dream and Castiel is suddenly in the desert. It is hot, dry, and he can feel himself sweating; does the dreamer often sweat? He looks around and realizes once again he is not alone, he's on a ranch where a man is tending to his horses, he sees other people around but he is uninterested in their activities; he is focused on the man with the green eyes. Something stirs in him; he knows this man. But _how. Why?_ Why is he having these odd dreams that feel like memories? Castiel wants to wake up but at the same time he feels the need to remain, watching the man smiling to himself as he saddles up the great beast he intends to ride. There's a voice in the distance, calling, it sounds concerned but Castiel can't bring himself to care, he watches the man and as though sensing him the man turns to Castiel; his face breaking out into a wider grin. "I knew you'd come." he says, and his voice is pleasant, melodic in its gruffness.

Castiel wants to answer but he can't figure out how to. He knows he can talk but he can't force the sounds out of his head and beyond his lips.

"You don't remember me, do you?" the green eyed man says, his smile morphing into something more broken.

Castiel isn't sure. He _knows_ this man, but he can't understand why.

"You'll get there, Cas."

_Cas. _The name resonates in his skull, pounding on it, echoing, demanding to be recognized. He is Castiel, an Angel of the Lord; he will not be reduced to _Cas._ But he feels it, the connection to the syllable. Something about it rings out; it feels like home.

He is no longer in the desert, he is in Hell. It is a scary place, where Angel's don't tread, but he has a mission. He looks to the rest of his Garrison, his brothers and sisters, they will keep him safe while he fulfills his orders. This memory he knows. This is a memory he will both embrace and shy away from for all of his many days. He sees a bright, shining soul, but it's darkening around the edges. Blackness edging it's way into the core. Another soul is bound, by magic, by creation, the name is unimportant, but the shining soul is flaying, and harming the grey soul; and Castiel can feel one part joy and a million parts regret as the shining soul darkens with every bit of torture he applies. A demon is nearby, a strong black figure of smoke and horror, and Castiel can feel the joy radiating from the demon as his pupil does his dirty work. Castiel can feel anger and rage and a million emotions inside of him, but he has to remain focused. The Angels distract the demon and Castiel reaches down, feeling the shining soul in the palm of his hand like a wounded bird.

The shining soul is screaming, confused, and scared, but Castiel comforts it, his otherworldly voice echoing in the bowels of this forsaken pit. "I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I will raise you from perdition."

The shining soul stops its protests and Castiel can feel it calming in his grip. He holds on tight and flies faster than his wings can take him.

Castiel startles, sitting upright and regretting it instantly as his rib wound twinges. He should be healed by now but getting shot with an angel bullet seems to have injured him more than he thought. He feels his dreams playing around in his mind, they remain like the last drop of water in a tall glass, not quite ready to slip away.

"Cas!" he hears the worry in Dean's voice; the compassion, the horror. He looks up to see Dean's green eyes shining with concern. Sam is there too, looking worried and sick but Castiel focuses on Dean.

"Find you." Castiel says, his voice weak.

"Find you?" Dean asks, "Find what?"

"Find you." Castiel says again, putting a hand on Dean's chest, but it's a light touch and he can feel it slipping, it takes too much effort to hold his hand up so he drops it to the bed.

Dean looks at Castiel, still confused, but now terrified that the angel seems to be delirious.

"Cas?" he seems so helpless and Castiel wants to take that pain away so he musters all his efforts and tries again.

"I," he swallows hard, "will always... find you." he feels his labored breath and closes his eyes, collapsing back onto the bed.

"Cas!" Dean shakes Cas a little bit, when he gets no response his voices raises, "CAS?!"

Castiel allows his eyes to flutter, "Just, resting." he manages, and he feels Dean exhale in relief.

Castiel is standing in a large white room, Naomi is sitting at her desk and Castiel begins to panic.

"Naomi," he begins with a righteous anger, but he doesn't know where to go from there, so his sentence ends at that.

"Castiel, you've been doing a little soul searching haven't you?" she stands up and approaches Castiel with sure and even strides.

"Why? Why do you keep me from remembering him? To what end does that accomplish?" Castiel asked.

"Castiel," Naomi reaches for his cheek, almost as though she is going to caress it sympathetically but Castiel pulls back out of her reach. Her hand drops and for a brief moment she looks almost hurt by the rejection.

"Sometimes Castiel, it's better not to remember."

"I don't understand." he admits.

"You're not meant to." she reaches for him and this time he isn't fast enough, her index finger touches his forehead and he slumps to the ground.

A montage plays in his head, years of chasing that bright and shining soul and those world weary eyes. Then it's gone. His head is clean.

He remembers the fall of Babylon.

He remembers the pyramids.

He remembers a small fish, flopping onto the shore.

But he doesn't remember the bright green eyes.

He doesn't remember the boy with the light brown hair and the give 'em hell attitude.

But something lingers, something stronger than Naomi's power, something stronger than time, events, and memories. He remembers a soul, shaking and scared as he held it in his hand. He remembers the purity, and the strength, and the perfection of this creation. He remembers a more profound bond.

()()() Fin ()()()

AN: To quote our dear Chuck, endings are hard. Anyway, hope you liked! :D


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